


Common People

by icaruslut



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-04-12 00:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19120696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icaruslut/pseuds/icaruslut
Summary: Arya and Gendry are flatmates. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. First Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> First attempt at both Gendrya and multi-chapter. Wish me luck and constructive feedback is always welcome.

Arya was officially sick of university halls. But she was trapped for another while yet, stupid bloody contract meant even if she moved out, she’d still have to pay the rent. But she didn’t particularly fancy going home for the summer. What was home really? A big empty house. Dad working away in King’s Landing, Sansa at university down there too. Jon working on the oil rigs up North and Robb living abroad with his wonderful wife and their bundles of joy. Still at home: Bran was Bran, shut-off and withdrawn one minute and wildly animated the next and little Rickon, soon to be taller than her and football mad. Then there was their mother, Catelyn Stark (neé Tulley), diligent housewife and homemaker, busying after the two birds still in the nest. There wasn’t anything wrong with her mother per se but they often locked horns – Arya could more than take care of herself and her mother was a busybody.

Hot Pie and Lommy were staying but had already secured a little two bed flat above a takeaway; they weren’t sure if she was staying and jumped on the cheap deal. Sure, she could always stay on the couch, but it wasn’t exactly a permanent solution. That led her to where she was now, scrolling through the local bulletin on her phone, looking for anyone who might need a flatmate come the new year. She had hoped to find someone in her halls or lectures who she could live with but they were very guarded and cliquey – she was from old money and they knew it. What they didn’t know was that she was here off her own back, not like Sansa who had everything paid for. She grafted hard just like the rest of them... which is what made the halls situation so pesky. All she had to do was call her dad and he’d pay off the rest of her accommodation and give her enough money that she could rent a cute, bohemian flat somewhere on the trendy side of town.

Aha! Flatmate wanted. 110pw, bills included. 2 bedroom flat within walking distance of the university and access to shared garden. Call to enquire. Both a mobile and landline number were listed. So, either it was an old house with a pre-installed wall phone or they got a really good deal on broadband. No one just buys landline deals anymore, surely. She decided to give the number a call – what's the worst that could happen? Voicemail. Not a personalised one because hey, who uses voicemail anymore?

“Hi, my names Arya. I was enquiring about the flatmate thing? I can’t move in until the summer but would love to view the flat. My email is [=”=] so feel free to contact me through that. I look forward to hearing from you, bye!” She tried to sound as cheery as she could while making it sound sincere. By the next day she’d sort of forgotten about it, too busy submitting yet another essay, when she got an email. Thanks to the whole university thing, it was just a student number with the university as the domain name.

“ **Hi Arya,**

**Hope you don’t mind the quick reply, not been much interest in the flat yet. I didn’t want to put the address in the ad incase I got randomers showing up at my door. The address is [=”=] so by all means, pop down when you’re free – just email or text before you show up so I can make sure I’m there to actually let you in... unless you have secret lockpicking skills. But yeah, the lease was actually from summer onwards as my old flatmate left uni.**

**Yours sincerely, Gendry** ”

Gendry. Nice name, if a little unusual. So was hers... she just hoped this Gendry wasn’t smart enough to search her name – wasn’t too many Arya’s about this part of Westeros and she didn’t want him judging her for her family like everyone else seemed to (apart from Hot Pie and Lommy of course). She texted the number from the ad. Just ‘ _Arya (Flatmate Thing)_ ’ with a peace sign emoji. She got a text back within a minute of ‘ **gendry** ’ with a smiley face.

It was around a week later, after she’d planned her next essay – not that she’d really follow the plan. The plan was planned down to the last plannable minute; she was kidding herself though; Arya Stark worked in small bursts of energy. Sure, when she was determined, she’d work her fingers to the bone but her course was only challenging in how many essays they wanted her to do. She could write this shit in her sleep and when something didn’t interest her, she wouldn’t touch it with a barge pole unless she had to. Plus, the tangents; she got off track easily. Hence why it was a week later and she hadn’t texted the mysterious Gendry about the flatmate thing. She probably should... an opportunity like this wouldn’t hang around forever and 110 a week was a steal considering she was currently paying 130 a week. But it would mean sharing a bathroom with at least one other person. Just because it said 2 bed flat didn’t mean this Gendry fella didn’t also have a ‘roommate’.

“ _Hey its Arya. Hope the flat’s still available – uni's been hectic. If it is, I’d love to see it today?_ ”

“ **yeah its still available and I should be back at the flat in like an hr so if you don’t mind seeing it messy come round then if not then maybe give me like 2 hrs tops** ”

Well she had nothing better to do apart from tidy her own room, which was starting to look like a bomb had hit it. She should probably get changed though – good first impressions and all that which are hard to make when you have a ketchup stain on your top and smeared mascara from your nap. She ran a brush through her hair (read: rat’s nest), chucked on a bra and a change of clothes – high waisted jeans and a cropped t-shirt. Aka the outfit that makes you look like you made an effort when you really, really haven't. She cleaned up her face and added a fresh coat of mascara, not bothering with any more than that. Beat up doc martens and aviator sunglasses and she was out of the door.

“ _Cool, I’ll start walking now and see you at 2_.” She got a thumbs up in return.

She didn’t exactly know what to expect when she got there but this certainly want it. The closer she got, the bigger and fancier the buildings were. Still practical but more ornate – still, she checked her google maps for the umpteenth time. She came upon a end-terrace town house on a perfectly manicured street. The only thing out of place was the old jeep on the drive, angled down towards a basement-level garage to the left of the front porch. That was the trend at the moment in these old houses – building down. Some millionaires living in ostensibly small houses yet having two or even three floors below the ground.

She heard a hammering noise coming from the garage and politely knocked, the metal vibrating under her fist loudly. The whir of a motor and the garage door began to lift.

“Gendry?” She asked curiously. He was _tall_. Not to mention built like a brick shithouse, as evidenced by the overalls unbuttoned, worn low on his hips and wife-beater showcasing his well-defined arms.

“Arya! Sorry I didn’t realise the time. I got back a bit earlier than expected and had some stuff to do.” He gestured for her to follow, ducking back under the garage door. He grabbed a rag and wiped the grime off his face and hands. At the centre of the garage space was an engine, stripped down and laid carefully across a table. Tools strewn around the room in organised chaos.

He walked up some steps and through the side door into the house, bringing them out into the hallway and adjacent to the main entrance – a masterpiece of oak and stained glass. Original tiled flooring and contemporary decorating blended seamlessly down the L-shaped hallway. Gendry disappeared through the door directly in front of them and she hesitantly followed, just in case it was his bedroom. Instead it was a very masculine-looking open plan kitchen-diner. Wooden counters, breakfast bar, grey walls and metal furniture; a gas-range _and_ a wood burner in the corner of the room next to a worn leather armchair and bookcase.

He grabbed a can of coke from the fridge and offered one to her but she shook her head. “I’m sure you probably have a few questions about the place but do you wanted to ask them before or after the tour?” He asked, no hint of conceitedness or sarcasm in his voice.

“After, if you don’t mind.” She smiled cheerily, trying desperately not to revert back to her resting bitch face, lest he interpret it as disdain.

He pushed himself off from the counter he was leaning against and sauntered passed her. She followed, mentally noting her observations: there were three doors on the left of the corridor including the one leading down to the garage and two on the right of the corridor including the one to the kitchen. Straight ahead there was a door that looked as though it led outside and she assumed there was at least one more door around the corner of the corridor. Oh, and Gendry had a _very_ nice arse.

“So, this is the living room, or reception room if you wanna be posh.” Next to the kitchen and tastefully decorated, like the rest of the flat it seemed. A huge flat screen telly mounted to the wall as well as a sky box and games console nestled in a solid wood console table. Large couch as well as another of those comfy looking armchairs and a giant beanbag. She was pretty sure the sound system was Sonos but the curtains were drawn, making the room dark. “This side of the house is south-facing so I usually keep the curtains closed and door open while ‘m out otherwise it’s like an oven.” He spun on his heel and carried on the tour, gesturing to the next door down from the garage.

“Here’s the utility room, but I also keep some spare clothes in there so I don’t get engine grease all over my room. Only made that mistake once. The stairs to the upstairs flat are round the side on the other side of the utility room in case you’re wondering.” Breezeblock walls painted white, a separate washer and drier, an airer with some overalls on and a small chest of drawers. No window but a tasteful cage-design pendant light hung from the ceiling provided more than enough light for the small room.

And onto the next door. “This is the bathroom – it used to have a separate toilet but they knocked through and extended a bit to make one huge bathroom.” The door swung open and he sure was right about it being huge. There was a jacuzzi-style tub as well as a double shower and a huge vanity sink unit She was awestruck. The walls were subways tiles with black grout, the flooring grey wood-laminate and the countertops were real marble. Trust her, she had an eye for these things. With it being at the back of the house and also above whatever was behind the garage, there were huge frosted windows on two walls, letting in lots of natural light.

He continued, walking around the corner and passing the door to the garden - from what she could see through the stained glass it was a good size but mostly patio rather than grass. There were two doors adjacent to one another “This is my room. It used to be the second reception room before this place was converted into flats. When they extended the bathroom area, it added this little alcove-y bit here as well as the second bedroom...” He pushed the door open let her enter the room herself. It was peaceful and she could hear birds through the partially open window - made a change from students shouting and screaming. It was less personalised than the other rooms. Plain white walls, a double divan bed with drawers, double wardrobe against one wall and a plush looking chair next to a large window overlooking the garden along with a desk. She could totally get used to this. She finally got a proper look at the garden, this time not distorted by colourful glass. She was right, it was mostly patio'd but there were hedges and bedding plants to brighten the place up. Outdoor lounge furniture, a fire pit and a barbecue.  _Nice_.

“So, what are you thinking?” She was keen but she didn’t necessarily want him to know that just yet.

“Well first I want to know what’s behind the garage. I know there has to be something underneath the utility and bathroom and if it’s some kind of torture chamber well... that’s something I should probably find out before I move in.” She held her breath a bit, not knowing if he shared her dark sense of humour, breath that she let out as his eyes crinkled at the edges and he barked out a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

He led her back down the stairs to the garage and unlocked the mystery door. “Not a murder dungeon, well... not for anyone else anyway.” Inside was the most over the top home gym she had ever seen. It wasn’t ostentatious by any means but it was extra. Free weights in the corner with floor-to-ceiling mirrors, a rowing machine and treadmill. And... oh my god... a fucking salmon ladder.

“Nope, definitely a torture chamber. But a fun torture chamber. One question though: why? Is fixing cars in your spare time not enough of a workout?” He smiled, although his expression was somewhat guarded.

“Well that’s a story you’ll only get if you move in.”

“Fine then, I will. On one condition.”

“Go on...” He said, warily.

“I get to add to this place. Beats the uni gym with the prissy little posers.”

“Deal.” He outstretched his hands and she shook it firmly, not at all surprised by the callouses she felt or the fact it engulfed hers.

“So how about a drink and you can tell me how you ended up with a place like this.”

“Now?” She nodded. “Well I don’t have any plans other than fighting that shit of an engine so why not. Give me 20 minutes and make yourself at home, it technically is now anyway.”

20 minutes later on the dot he came bounding into the kitchen where she was sat on the countertop. He chuckled at how quickly she had made herself at home and couldn’t help but admire the way she swung her long legs slightly back and forth. She certainly was appreciating the view he gave as well; he was clean now. Well, as clean as he could be when she was pretty sure his hands permanently had engine oil and the like embedded in them. A white t-shirt and a navy-and-black checked shirt, unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up. Black jeans and biker boots. He was effortlessly suave. She hopped off the counter, grabbing her bag from the bar stool beside her.

“So, by drink did you mean coffee or happy hour?” Gendry asked.

“I mean I’m more than happy getting coffee if you have plans for tomorrow but I have no lectures or anything tomorrow so...”

“Town it is then. Shipbreaker Bay is cheap and cheerful plus there’s usually less wankers than the student union bars.” From his tone of voice, she knew he didn’t think she knew where he meant. So it took him by surprise when she linked arms with him and practically skipped to the best pub in all of Storm’s End.

A beer in his hand, a rum and coke in hers, they sat outside in the late-May sunshine. Made a change from the grim rain they’d had for the last three weeks. So much for April showers bring May flowers... They were nearly in June and this was the first genuine bit of sun she’d seen.

“My sob story or yours?” She sighed with faux-contempt.

“Well Miss Arya Stark,” She sat up at that. So he _did_ know who she was, the sneaky bastard. “I’d love to know what a Northern lass is doing so far South and looking for a cheap flat.” He winked, knowing full well that it was genuine surprise on her face.

“Well I suppose there aren’t too many Arya’s down this way so I can’t really commend you for your detective skills but if you must know, I’m here on my own merit. My sister Sansa is paying upfront for one of those fancy King’s Landing academies and by her paying, I mean my father. I was sick of the capital, Oldtown was full of the old money types too and that’s not me. I was trying to get out of the North for a bit but Dorne was too clean. Too different to what I’m used to, I guess. A northern girl in Dorne attracts way more attention than in Storm’s End and I was trying to avoid people just throwing me in with the rest of the old pricks who run this country. Didn’t work though, hence why I was still trying to find a flat for next year.” He’d been nodding thoughtfully as she spoke.

“What didn’t work?” He was genuinely curious, head cocked to the side.

“Even though I go by Arya Snow for class purposes, it’s still a name that links me to the North. Not exactly hard to make the connection. I was hoping my looks would throw them off though.” He still looked confused so she continued. “Everyone knows my sister the socialite, auburn haired and blue eyed. The same as my other siblings and my mother; it’s just me and my half-brother Jon who take after our father. Should have just used another Bastard surname – less obvious.”

_Play your cards right, m'lady and you will end up with another Bastard’s surname – Waters_. Gendry had no idea where that thought came from, having only drank half of his beer. He barely knew this girl and she was technically a _Lady_. He had no chance with her, no matter how much he enjoyed her presence.

“And why did you want to move in over summer?” He asked, steering the conversation in another direction.

“Because my mother and I don’t exactly see eye to eye. And the only other family up there are my two younger brothers who, as much as I love them, I don’t want to be taking care of. Sansa’s staying in King’s Landing with dad, my older brother Robb is in Volantis with his wife and kids... Jon works beyond the wall on the oil rigs and my adopted brother, Theon well... who knows what he’s doing: all we know is that he seems to show up in the official band pictures of every bloody festival going. God knows how he gets tickets, or gets that close to the bands but hey ho, he always sends me cool souvenirs.”

“Intense.” He deadpanned. She laughed and gestured it was his turn to spill before taking a long swig of her drink. He did the same, steeling himself for telling her a story maybe only half a dozen people knew. “Well I think my story’s a good enough excuse for shots so I'll be right back.” He deflected, rushing to the bar. He returned momentarily with a tray holding another beer for himself and another rum and coke for her plus a tequila shot each. “A double, don’t worry I’m not being cheap.” He said, placing her drink in front of her. She declined the shot, figuring he needed it more than she.

Two shots of tequila later and the liquid courage was taking hold. She absentmindedly placed her delicate hand on his corded forearm and he slowed his breathing. “My mum died of cancer when I was four, I was brought up by a family friend, Tobho who was a mechanic but he died in a car accident when I was 15 so then I was put in the system. Luckily, I was fostered by a guy called Davos who lives in King’s Landing. Oh yeah I forgot to mention that’s where I’m from originally, oops.” The alcohol gave him the courage but also made his head muzzy. “Anyway, so I decides not to go to uni cause that shits expensive but then I turns 18 and this lawyer dude turns up at my door. Says Tobho had contacted my dad shortly before he was in the accident, telling him about me and his lawyer tracked me down. Wouldn’t tell me _who_ my dad was cause it wasn’t on my birth certificate and the only people who knew were either dead or had signed NDAs. But the guy must be rich because he signed this house over to me, well the ground floor flat and basement, dunno who owns the one above, and told me he was paying for my education here in whatever I wanted to do. Despite all the shit, I got the grades to do engineering even if i did have an unintentional gap year so here we are. I’m in my third year and have one year left cause I thought it’d be a great idea to do a masters degree. Lucky me.”

By the end of his monologue, she had finished her double rum and coke and he drained half of his beer in one go. She’d declined the shot earlier but, feeling bold, decided she was going to let her guard down and toe the line of tipsy and drunk. “You need another drink. My round next.” She declared and began to stand up. He grabbed her by the arm, his booze-hazed eyes suddenly clearing.

“I know I have a tragic origin story but I promise I’m not some sort of vigilante, despite what that salmon ladder might suggest.” She found herself laughing loudly at the joke as she plonked herself back onto the bench, causing the other patrons to look their way. Telling the story always sobered him up. It wasn’t overly depressing, just a bit much. He shook his head, as if clearing the last bit of sadness away and settling once more into his cheery demeanour. “Anyway, what are you studying.”

“Abnormal psychology.” She waved her hand, observing the gaunt look on his face before she broke the façade and shot an apologetic look his way. “Am I fuck, I’m doing Law. First year and hating every moment of it. The content is easy enough, especially for someone that’s studied it before, just at a lower level, _and_ who made it her business to learn exactly what laws certain _businessmen_ were breaking. They called me Arya Underfoot because I was always there. Always listening, mostly unseen and, not to brag, but it helped my dad to get where he is. However, I cannot abide the amount of essays they get us to do; I could write those things in my sleep but they’re just so tedious!” she exclaimed, exasperated and glad to complain to someone other than Hot Pie and Lommy who were doing degrees in Culinary Arts and Pharmacology respectively. She had no idea how she became friends with them but she never complained.

“So, we should probably discuss the house and contracts and stuff then. I don’t really want to get a contract drawn up because then it’s classed as subletting and then I’ll have to piss about with changing the insurance and whatnot so a verbal agreement should be enough. Although we can always write down any terms or rules we want to agree on beforehand.”

“Sounds good but probably a conversation best had sober.” He nodded his agreement.

Arya finally got another round of drinks in and they sat outside drinking and chatting until it started raining once more. Realising if they went inside they wouldn’t leave until close, they ran back through the city, Arya using Gendry’s shirt as a makeshift umbrella, all the way to the university halls. He wasn’t about to let his new flatmate get murdered because it was raining and he didn’t bring a coat. She turned around and flung her arms around him, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek before skipping off back to her accommodation.

Accepting that he was already pissed wet through and realising that Arya still had his shirt, he shrugged and strolled down the street back to his flat, letting the rain clear the drunken haze from his mind. He checked his phone when he got home and saw a text from her: “ _U nvr told me y u hav a torture chamber in ur house_ ”. It seemed drunk Arya was much less capable at english than sober Arya. He fired one back, feeling more sober than he had when they ran back back from the pub but still more _courageous_ than normal: “ **coffee tomorrow and I promise you’ll find out?** ” By the time he’d stripped out of his wet clothes, leaving them in the utility room, towel dried his hair and crawled into bed, he still couldn’t shake the image of her stormy eyes, they were burned into his brain now, all he could see. _Shit_. He was in such deep, unending shit.


	2. Lockpick Extraordinaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blossoming friendship with a dash of that awkward banter.

His head was pounding and he wasn’t sure if he’d throw up if he moved, so he just lay there. Faintly aware of a car door slamming outside. Fuck it, he had no lectures today so he was going to sleep off this gods-awful hangover. When he next awoke, a glass of water and some paracetamol had magically appeared on his bedside table. _Oh no_. He couldn’t remember much about last night really, not after the shots; was he really that much of a lightweight? Did he bring someone home? His door was slightly ajar and he finally sat up in his bed, downing the water and tablets and groggily pulling the pair of shorts on he forgot to put on last night. If he was naked... maybe he did bring someone home.

He stumbled into the hallway, the bright daylight making him squint but following his nose to the kitchen and the scent of coffee and fast food. There was a fresh pot of coffee and a bag of McDonalds on the counter. A breakfast wrap lay nestled inside, slightly cold but nothing the microwave couldn’t fix. More alert, he heard the TV on in the living room, too distracted by the promise of a caffeine hit to notice when he walked past the first time. Food and drink in hand, he nudged the door open.

“Arya? How the fuck did you get in cause I know for a fact that I took you back to the uni halls.” She looked amazing and not hungover at all. She was wearing his lucky blue shirt from last night and, even though it drowned her, it looked _good_. Buttoned up over some leggings and her boots.

“Waters! You’re finally awake. Next time you ask a girl out for coffee, be more specific on time. Also, you really need a better hiding place for your spare key.” He shook his head in disbelief and sunk into the couch next to her.

She was trying to get a look at him as best she could without it being obvious. He was shirtless and his body was pure muscle; not in the overly-done body-builder way but as in he worked out, he fixed cars and he was in his early 20s. His shaggy black hair had dried in all sorts of directions but mostly was falling into his eyes. She didn’t mention the fact he was sporting very _obvious_ morning wood to save them both the embarrassment, but made a mental note nonetheless. After all, she’d already seen his toned ass when she took him the water and painkillers, the duvet kicked down to his feet and face smooshed against the pillow.

“Thanks for this, by the way.” He gestured to the much-needed sustenance before him.

“No worries, although I did have to pull a favour with a friend to get you that. You do realise it’s almost noon, right?” He ducked his head and blushed. She’d known him for a day and was willing to call in favours for him. She turned back to the TV, unfazed and totally relaxed. It made him smile really, the fact that she already seemed so comfortable around him and in this house. He had to admit, his previous flatmate had been okay if a little quiet – he kept to himself which was fine by Gendry after having lived in the house by himself for a year but still... it would be nice to live with someone who is happy to just sit on the sofa watching shitty daytime television and brought him maccies when he was hungover.

“So I know I promised you coffee but what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining; it’s nice to have company.”

“You promised me a story, remember?” She smirked, adding “ _Lightweight_ ” under her breath.

Gendry rolled his eyes. “Fine,” The sound of daytime TV filled the air. “Well the bones of it were there when I moved in – your typical rich-person home gym. The whole place was furnished when I moved in and I’ve only made a couple of changes since. Mainly the gym, living room and my bedroom. And then when my old flatmate moved out, I added the chair and bookcase. To be honest, my old flatmate... I barely saw him. He’d go to uni, come home, go to work, come home, rinse and repeat. It was just a hello and goodbye and it was boring as hell.” He sipped at his coffee, surprised to find it made exactly how he liked it, before continuing.

“I don’t really fit in. I have a house in my name, my education paid for but I don’t come from money – not really. It’s a weird situation to be in.... almost the opposite to yours. I needed something to occupy my time and there’s only so much time you can spend fixing cars before your eyes go funny and you can’t feel your hands. Plus when it rains, you can’t have the garage door open otherwise all the rain flows down. It’s not the best design but I make it work. So I needed something indoors that would help me let off some steam.” He was quiet for a moment, as was she. “See I told you it was a boring story, not even worth going out for coffee.” He felt a little embarrassed about the text he sent last night and the fact she dragged herself all the way here just for that.

Arya could tell from the tension in his shoulders he felt a little awkward about yesterday and the fact she was here now. “Nah, don’t worry about it, it pretty much swayed my decision remember?” She waited for him to relax, which he did as his shoulders lowered and he stood up to take the rubbish into the kitchen. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

10 minutes later, he walked back into the living room, having gone to put some joggers on and make himself look less hungover. In other words, he splashed some water on his face and used some mouthwash, running his fingers through his hair before nodding at his reflection. He wasn’t kidding when he said the house got warm and Arya had already seen him in various stages of undress so there wasn’t much point putting a t-shirt on.

“You really are a scruffy drunk, aren’t you?” Arya asked, coming out of the kitchen, making him jump. He tilted his head, confused. “Wet clothes strewn about, doors open and lights left on... good job the house is paid for since the leccy bill will be sky high.” He chuckled; she might be a posh northerner but a northerner nonetheless.

“I suppose I should thank you for looking after me, ey? Water, fast food and drugs – what more could a guy ask for?” He grinned, beginning to feel at least a little less hungover.

“Don’t forget putting said wet clothes on the airer instead of a pile on the floor. Shame for those jeans to get ruined; they do such wonders for that tight lil’ ass of yours.” She turned away from him, heading back into the kitchen, but her shoulders shook slightly as she held in her laughter.

“Oi you little minx, can’t tell if that’s a compliment or an insult coming from _you_.” He poked her sides with his index fingers, making her squeal and jump a few feet away from him. She’d turned mid-air, landed sure-footed even when her mismatched socks met tiled floor; it made him wonder how much of a hard-ass she’d be as a sparring partner.

Arya simply waved her hand in dismissal, her smile lessening the harshness of the gesture. “Anyway, I hope you don’t mind but I dropped some stuff off to add to the torture chamber, feel free to chuck it wherever I just didn’t want to move things without asking. I do, however, need to get going. Was hoping to go through some of those ground rules you mentioned but hey ho.” She shrugged but it wasn’t malicious, just a passing comment.

“Well, I do _technically_ owe you a coffee... probably lunch too now, so maybe we could meet up later this week? Up to you of course...” Gendry rubbed the back of his neck – definitely a nervous thing.

“Yeah, nice one. I’ll drop you a text and we can sort details. Actually, before I leave,” He’d followed her into the living room where she was pulling her boots back on. “My move out date is the 11th July so in like four and a bit weeks, so when can I start moving my stuff across? I mean, I brought some of my workout gear over cause I figured it was small and unobtrusive but...” She trailed off. The pauses weren’t awkward necessarily but the whole thing was hasty and the details needed to be ironed out at some point.

“Oh yeah sure, if you need me to use the jeep to ferry things across then let me know.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets.

“I’ll keep that in mind. _Gods_ , food shopping’s going to be so much easier with a _chauffeur_.” She winked at him as she walked past. “See you around Waters.” And then she was gone before he could think up some witty response – a veritable whirlwind she was.

It was only later on, when he was washing the pots – no reason to put the dishwasher on for a couple of mugs – when he stopped, almost as if he had been electrocuted, and had to stop himself from dropping the mug in his hand.

“Hang on,” He said aloud. “I don’t have a spare key outside.”

_Lockpick extraordinaire indeed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took waayyyy longer than expected, working retail literally destroys my soul. Slightly shorter chapter, but that's the joys of multi-chapter stuff I suppose.
> 
> As always, constructive feedback is always welcomed as are prompts.


	3. Funny Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya says goodbye to her University Accommodation.

It was almost a fortnight later before any concrete plans were made. It was exam time and Arya’s came and went without a hitch – just the occasional text to her older brothers about how annoying it was that so much of her result hinged on timed exams and not her work throughout the year. She hadn’t dared compare her workload to Lommy’s (she once flipped through one of his pharmacology textbooks and it gave her a headache for a week) although she had teased Hotpie about how she hoped he didn’t overcook  _his_  exam. She hadn’t, however, heard much from Gendry, and she hoped she hadn’t freaked him out with her lockpicking stunt – not all prospective housemates (or friends, for that matter) take kindly to breaking and entering. Either way, she’d taken the opportunity to pack up her textbooks and gently remove the posters and photographs from her walls; the last thing she needed was fines taken out of her security deposit. 

Tired of being cooped up in her room and one of the last left in halls, Arya decided to go for a walk. Maybe she’d swing by Gendry’s and make sure he was still alive after his engineering exams (honestly, she’d choose pharmacology over engineering any day). She sighed at her reflection; she felt like she needed a change to mark her surviving her first year at uni – and maybe prove that fact to her mother. Aha! She could always dye her hair again.... maybe not permanent enough. Perhaps another piercing or even a tattoo. She shrugged, turning the new possibilities over in her head. Today’s outfit consisted of black utility pants complete with wallet chain, white tee and Gendry’s shirt. Yeah, at least that sort of worked as an excuse to go round. The weather had finally brightened up so she forewent any other form of jacket. She tugged on her combat boots – her mother used to say she had more pairs of boots than Sansa had of heels which was saying something – grabbed her rucksack and a snack from the kitchen and went to head out. 

She opened the door to her flat and jumped back as she eyed a fist that had been about to knock, followed by a very large, very muscled body that stumbled forward. 

“Fuck.” Gendry exclaimed as he regained his balance. “So looks like I’m never getting my shirt back then.” He grinned, shaking his head. Well that answered the question of if he was mad at her. 

“What do you mean? This is _our_  shirt now, young man. And once I move in, it will simply be the flat shirt for either of us to wear as we so please.” Her eyes lit up with mischief. 

“That was my lucky shirt.” He muttered half-heartedly; his eyes gave him away. 

“It’s still your lucky shirt, obviously, you’ve got yourself the best flatmate anyone could wish for!”  _She’d got that right,_ he thought. Maybe the shirt really was lucky. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I never told you my flat number.” 

“Oh! Yeah well... funny story actually,” A blush quickly covered his cheeks. “I may or may not have buzzed every flat asking which one Arya Snow lived in until someone finally told me and let me in.” He paused and a slight frown appeared on his face. “Not before I heard them call you ‘that Stark Bitch’ and a few other choice words and phrases.” He couldn’t quite meet her eyes so she gently placed her hand on his arm. “So I may or may not have pressed the call button for that particular flat again and told them to go fuck themselves.” He held his breath, waiting for her reaction – good or bad – when she doubled over, laughing hysterically. 

“I knew there was a reason I liked you, Waters.” She said after finally regaining sanity. “Although that _still_ doesn’t answer the question of why you’re here.” She reiterated. 

“One, I owe you coffee-slash-dinner. Two, we need to get you moved in. Three, this may only be the third time we’ve hung out but, embarrassingly, I missed you taking the piss out of me.” She looked for any trace of insincerity in his face with his admission but found none. 

“Sounds good. I was going out of my mind with boredom without my favourite engineer.” It was just so easy. The banter, the teasing, even the comfortable silences. Someone on the outside may have found it awkward but she fucking loved it, revelled in it. “I have a few boxes packed so I can always chuck them in the boot before we head out?” He nodded his agreement and she dumped her bag back on her desk. 

“This is actually the first time I’ve really seen the inside of halls to be honest.” He said absentmindedly, noting the clothes strewn about the room on top of cardboard boxes he could only assume was what she wanted to take now. 

“It could be worse. I’m actually paying more for this than you’re going to be charging so,” She shrugged, moving the clothes and mentally noting which boxes needed going where and when. 

“Well I suppose it is a studio so no shared kitchen or bathroom.” He supplied, but she only shrugged in response. 

“Do you think we can fit in all this at once? It’ll make life easier.” There were two boxes ready to go: one had textbooks; the other had stationery and notebooks along with other crap from her desk. There was also a box file full of her pictures along with various birthday, Christmas and good luck cards from her family as well as some postcards from her niece and nephew in their cute chicken-scratch. Finally, there was a large duffel bag with some clothes and essentials in. At least that way she could actually crash at her new place if needed.  

“Oh, and then some. The boots huge plus the seats fold down so if there’s anything else you wanna pack up?” Something that would normally sound obnoxious just... doesn’t, coming from him. It’s refreshing, Arya thinks. Sure he could be a show off but this was just facts for him. Maybe it came with the territory of working with cars from such a young age – it becomes a statement, a fact, rather than a boast. 

She shrugs, something she should really stop doing but never does. “Well if you don’t mind hanging around for a bit I can try and pack some of my bedding and stuff in a suitcase?” Gendry simply responded by hopping up onto her kitchen counter, much like she did when she viewed the house, and gestures for her to go ahead.  

She grabbed the suitcase from under the bed and laid it out in the middle of the floor. At least once she had all her linen and towels at the house she definitely wouldn’t have to come back to this shithole except for the last few bits and pieces. A neat trick her lovely sister-in-law taught her meant that her bedsets were folded inside one of the pillowcases, therefore all she had to do was grab them from the bottom of her wardrobe and sling them into the case – for now she’d ignore the pile of screwed up fitted sheets; not even Talisa’s tips and tricks could get those things folded. Next were her clean towels and facecloths from her chest of drawers. She paused... trying to find the words for what she wanted to say... 

“Your old flatmate’s collected all his things, right?” She cautioned. 

“Uh yeah, the rooms been empty pretty much since you left that voicemail, to be honest.” Gendry replied, briefly glancing up from whatever he was doing on his phone. “Why?” He added. 

“Well in that case can I just move in now? I only have like maybe another suitcase worth of stuff. Maybe the duffel bag too...” She didn’t want to sound too hopeful. “It’s just,” She continued. He was looking at her intently now, that adorable tilt to his head back once more. “I mean, I have like 3 weeks left on the lease but it’s already paid and I’m sick of it. Once you finish your exams what’s the point? Most other people in the building have gone home apart from Bitchy McBitchface – the one you told to fuck off.” She clarified.  

“I don’t see why not.” He grinned. “Gives me a sparring partner-” 

“Let’s be fair, I’d kick your ass.” 

“And I’d happily take it.” 

“Gives me a chauffeur-” 

“You can pay me in maccies.”  

By this point, Gendry had hopped off the countertop and Arya had stood up from her previous, cross-legged, position until they were face to face. Or rather, as close to face-to-face as possible when there was a decent height difference. Arya smirked up at Gendry and he tilted his head down to her. 

“Deal.” She stated, giving him a hard shove, palm flat against his chest. Either he wasn’t expecting it, didn’t realise how strong she was or had _really_ shit balance considering he stumbled back. If he was doing it to humour her, well, he’d pay. 

Gendry blinked, clearly dazed or just downright confused. He shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. “So yeah we can grab majority of this stuff then and sort the other stuff out soonish.” 

“Sounds good.” She spun on her heel and walked over to her bed. Gendry took a step back and leant against the fridge. Arya couldn’t be arsed stripping the duvet so just folded it up with the pillows and blanket inside. The sheets could wait - the sheets could _always_ wait. “Bin bags. Under the sink.” She was expecting him to tell her to do one but, to her surprise, he brought the roll of bags over. It was a double bed and Arya was only 5’2” - a struggle at best, injury risk at worst. Still, she tried to fit everything into the bin liner to no avail.

“Here let me.” Gendry offered, humour lacing his voice, longer arms easily gathering everything up.

“Right then mister capable, you fancy taking the boxes down while I pack my delicates? I have a reputation to uphold.” There was that blush again, just a dusting of pink in his cheeks, not full-on tomato face. Ever obedient and chivalrous, he did as she asked. If you can consider _that_  asking. 

By packing her delicates, she pretty much just dumped all her underwear into one side of her cabin case. The other side would do for her toiletries. She was getting worried about Gendry, he’d been gone a while. Maybe he came face with the dickhead down the hall and was telling them to fuck off too – a girl could only hope. Instead, he decided to stroll back into her flat right as she was wrestling with the fitted sheet, sprawled across the bed. 

“Knew you were just another rich girl.” Her head whipped towards him, yet he still continued. Stupid bull. “What? You can’t even fold a sheet.” He waved his hand in a vague indication that he wanted to help. 

“You don’t know any other rich girls.” Arya snapped indignantly. “Go one then. Bloody one-upmanship.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Nuh-uh. Time for you to learn. You’re almost 20, these are life skills you oughtta know.” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, you roll them any further an they’ll fall out.” He teased. 

“Piss off. Look, I get so far and then the elasticated corners just get in the way.” She demonstrated for him. 

“Yeah now tuck the corners into the sheet, it’s not hard.” He leant forward from where he was watching over her shoulder, arms either side of her. “Like so... and voila!” He exclaimed with a ridiculously stereotypical French accent.  

She had to admit she was impressed, but that was overshadowed by her realisation that she had quite possibly the hottest guy she’d ever met practically wrapped around her like a koala. She breathed in to steady herself, and instead found herself more interested in how he smelled – the engine oil and metal smell was overpowering this close but somehow familiar and safe, the undertones of sandalwood and patchouli from whatever fabric softener he used taking away the harshness. It reminded her a little of Jon after he came back from the rigs for Christmas a couple years ago, straight off the boat to come and see his favourite sister. 

Gendry, as if finally realising that nothing had been said for almost a minute, even though it felt like an hour, stepped back, dropping his arms back to his sides. He cleared his throat, awkwardly and averted his gaze. “I’ll uh, take the box file and bags while you finish up. Is the, uh, cabin bag ready to go as well.” Arya hummed a yes, nodding her head, although still with her back to him. 

When she was sure he’d gone, she let out a sigh and plonked herself on the bed. Plonked being the only word for the way she sat down on the bare bed with way more drama than necessary. If only Sansa could see her now. Years of teasing and being the biggest tomboy going had got her where exactly? She couldn’t flirt to save her life and also this was her housemate – if they fell out over a misunderstanding it would be hella awkward and she did _not_ have time for that. No, she thought, keep it  _profesh_.  

When she heard his footsteps coming back down the hall, she jumped up, chucked in the rest of the fitted sheet haphazardly and zipped the case shut. “All good?” He asked, a completely different person than when he left – back to the laidback mechanic with top class banter instead of the awkward engineering student who found himself in the most awkward situations possible. 

“Sorted.” She responded, her northern accent coming in strong. “Just need to come back for my jumpers and coats and the like and a couple bulkier items like the rest of my boots. Got my laptop ‘n that in that big rucksack there so yeah... everything fit in the car okay?” He nodded, prideful in a way. If he could pretend nothing happened, so would she. Maybe he didn’t even realise what had transpired right there. She fought the urge to shrug; he’d only ask her what was wrong. 

She locked the door behind her, glad to be seeing the back of her studio. Don’t get her wrong, she loved that little piece of freedom but: 1) it was lonely 2) her neighbours were all shits 3) at least with a shared kitchen/bathroom/living room the chores could be shared. Just one more trip and all her stuff would be moved and she could forget about it forever. 

She was genuinely surprised to see Gendry had fit most things in the boot without dropping the back seats. It was like the perfect game of Tetris. Only thing on the back seat was the bin bag containing her duvet, pillows and the other bag containing her mattress topper. She’d recently washed it after an unfortunate incident involving a bottle of Dr Pepper (aka her personal 2nd favourite drink after Dandelion and Burdock) so was ready to go – she hadn’t even seen him carrying it, although the labelled bag probably helped. Maybe he did have some common sense after all. 

“Where to milady?” An imaginary tip of a hat had Arya giggling (something she never normally did), a gasp and hand to his chest in faux-indignation had her full-on belly-laughing at him. It cut any residual tension and they both relaxed.  

“Do you know where The Cove is? Nice espresso bar on the other side of town?” He turned to look at her properly. “Don’t worry, I’m paying. Although it’s not as expensive as you’re probably expecting.” 

“This might surprise you but I do know where it is. Just cause I’m technically poor doesn’t mean I don’t go to Chain now and then.” He smirked. So what if he had a free house? Doesn’t mean shit when you still have to pay bills, and buy shopping, and your car practically guzzled petrol.... 

“Omg I love Chain. Their 90’s night is great. But their Rock night is even better. Y’know, I’m surprised I’ve never seen you in there before.” Chain, of course, being an upscale bar set in an old bank on the same street as The Cove. If she’d taken her father up on his offer of an apartment, she’d choose that area. 

“Well the place does have an 800 capacity so not surprising. I don’t go there that often. Not as fun going by yourself and well, once people see the house they either try and use me for money I don’t have or just ghost me.” 

“Perks of having a rich-girl housemate then, ey? Who cares about appearances.” Gendry made some non-commital noise, eyes on the road ahead. 

They rode the rest of the journey in a comfortable silence, the sound of the radio filtering through the car.  _You’ve got me wrapped around your finger,_ _Do_ _you have to let it linger?_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was a bit of a rollercoaster but I live for the awkward interactions.
> 
> Feedback and prompts always helpful.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: thank you to all the lovely people who left comments on chapter 1, sorry it's taken two months to post chapter 2


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